Silence
by MountainRose
Summary: After the battle is lost and won, there is little left but grief and smoke, but the breaking of dawn brings the next challenge, and the next. In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, there is healing to be done. AU after book 5, HPSS.
1. Unto the silence of the night

Silence.

Noun: the lack of or absence of sound.

But perhaps that is not the right word, for what Harry sought now was not the lack of _sound_ but the lack of _noise_. Words, spells, screams, sobs, _noise_. There is no victor in battle, only the ugliness of the field, once spell is fired and weapon wielded, all that remains is the _noise_ that Harry had been unable to escape. Dry, burnt grass died a little more under his boots as the heavy, brooding bulk of the Forest beckoned him away from the castle, promising to ablate the noise. He longed for even the near-silent rush of air beneath owls' wings. But Hedwig would not come to him this night, nor any night again. Her ghostly white feathers would not lead him on the merry chase, nor chastise him for lack of bacon.

Strange how, now beneath the bows of ancient oak and towering beech, the image of the dead, laid as though sleeping would not haunt him, but rather the remembrance of an owl. Perhaps it was merely that she had died first. Perhaps it fitting he mourn for her first, for surely he could not feel that much, nor mourn as the dead deserved, unless he took the time the honour each soul as it deserved. And yet, he doubted. For seventeen long years, he had not finished mourning for his parents, mourning their warmth and light. Was this not the same?

He stopped, waiting in silence, with eyes staring blankly into the darkness of the deep wood. Here marked the true beginning of the Forbidden Forest, beyond Hagrid's realm of half tame oaks and wandwood, and into the pitch pine blackness. Oak gave way to towering spruce and beech to skeletal larch. The ground here, thick with needles deadened all sound.

It was the same. The holes left in him by the departed souls of friend, family and mentor clamoured for his pain, even here where the Forest stole all sound, he could not escape it. But, nonetheless, here is peace. Peace that could be shattered, broken and torn asunder in mighty tribute to his grief.

A step, the two more and the air changed, the ground changed and his footsteps begun to sound, like the deep drums, like a heart in final lethargy. The sweet, cloying scent of pine overwhelmed the scents that had clung to his robes, so long now that he could no longer detect their foul stench. Blood, smoke, sickness, he relished in their abolition. The drums beat on; he would not be distracted from his mindless goal.

Once past the boundary, little changed foot, to foot or mile to mile. He marched onwards on a path known only to himself but known well there. He did not notice, so absorbed in his all-encompassing pain was he, when two legs shifted to four, foot to paw and face to muzzle. Now one with the forest, swallowed by it and concealed within it as only the Tiger can be, he continued on relentlessly. When the ground began to slope upwards, littered with boulders and fallen trees, he began to climb, to leap from outcropping to tree to stone. His relentless pace shifted into something frantic, using energy his body no longer contained as he sprung up the mountain.

In time, he left the pine and spruce and larch and burst forth into the breathtaking cold. The ground, bare rock and stone, resisted his climb into the heavens, into the ice-cold expanse of star-on-sky. It cut his paws and tumbled underneath him, but still he hurtled upwards, towards the roof of the world, undeterred. Nothing lived here, on this wind-burned knife of stone, but from here all that lived, and died, could be seen.

When his swift paws could carry him no further, when there was nowhere left to run, he turned and surveyed the world, laid out below him. The field of war burned still. The great trees sacrificed as barricades threw their flames high as their substance returned to the air, to be used again. Deep furrows of accursed ground scared once green fields, perhaps nothing would grow there again and they would be forever reminders that even enmeshed deep in his hatred of his own kind, man would destroy the world around him.

The Tiger could stand it no longer, the anguish in his chest would remain silent no longer and with a deep draw of air, he roared. Deep and long and pervasive, the sound hurtled through the forest and crashed into the rock walls of the valley below, rebounded and rumbled like thunder. It took a great length of time to fade; lingering long after Harry's breath failed him. Like a puppet without strings, he slumped, listless to the stone. Fur retreated, fingers lengthened and the sound of animal rage gave way to the wrenching grief of a man.

His protest to the heavens had achieved nothing, the fires still burnt, the castle remained alight with the living frantic to save those left on the brink of death. The earth remained scorched. He was left cold and alone, regretting his flight into the solitary nature of his Animal. The anguish and grief had not diminished but the frantic beating of his heart began to slow as he lay staring at nothing on cold stone, under icy stars.

"Lacio mihi in obscurum ab nex , pro ego sum gelu quod unus." His mouth felt strange around the words, as though there should do something, ease the ice and pain in his spirit, but nothing changed.

"Do you honestly wish for death? Is your battle fought for nothing?" The rustle of cloth over ground destroyed his solitude and the dark shape coming to kneel before him destroyed the illusion of the endless sky. "Come, now is the time for sleep and healing. For grieving. There has been enough death this day, " The cold retreated from his skin a fraction as gentle hands slid under shoulders and knees. As he gave in to the darkness, the rich scent of sandalwood and sage surrounded him and he gave in to the care of Severus Snape, feeling himself lifted and cocooned securely within strong arms.

_Perhaps I am not so alone, after all. _

Exert from _"The Darkness of Death" _by Morgal Ab Llwyarch

Lacio mihi in obscurum ab nex , pro ego sum gelu quod unus.

"Cast me into the darkness of death, for I am cold and alone."

'Do not despair, ye mortals, for in thy mortality lies peace, but still doth the heart beat should there be warmth, still is breath drawn while thine soul is cherished. Then, thou art charged to live."

(A/N: sometimes things are just too much. I hope we all have someone who brings us back from the brink. I would like to hear your thought on this short, please. If there is enough enthusiasm I may find time to develop this further. Best wishes and sky-speed to you all.)


	2. Wards

Severus Snape bundled the man-child in his cloak as grief left Harry to the abyss. Fighting the battle had been hard in and of its self but the sight of body after body in the Great Hall had finally broken Harry's warrior facade. The grim light of victory had simply slipped away, leaving Harry's face, to Severus' eyes at least, empty and bleak. The Weasley boy had been directing Aurors to mop up the bound and injured Death Eaters while Granger was working closely with the elves to shore up the castle's walls. Neither had seen him away and leave the castle entirely. No, that duty had fallen to Severus.

Remus Lupin, _Avada Kedavra._

Nymphadora Tonks, his own spell, _Sectum Sempra._ Never a foolish teenage urge had he regretted more than the invention of that spell.

Fred Weasley, caught in the backwash of a _reducto,_ not dead yet, but well on his way and taking his twin with him_._

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, hit by a _Finite_ that ended the Healing keeping his cursed body alive.

So many whose names Severus did not know, lay under conjured black sheets in the Great Hall, more still lay on hastily transfigured benches and cots waiting in pain for the Healers to find the time. He could understand, down to his very soul, why Harry had needed to escape and was loath to return him there.

_I have lingered long enough. _

After one last glance down at the grounds, at the burning barricades, he spun on his heel and vanished with a sub-audible pop. For a moment darkness swallowed them both before ejecting them more gently into Severus' quarters. For a moment he was over whelmed by the memory of an overheard conversation, many years ago;

"_But Harry! You can't Apperate within Hogwarts, I-"_

"_Read it in Hogwarts: A History!"_ Boyish laughter and a feminine 'huff' trailed off in his memory. It looked to be a long time before children graced these halls again. Such change... with the falling of the Headmaster, the Wards had crashed down, though by that point it hardly mattered, the Dark Lord made the Great Hall and his Death Eaters filled the castle like cockroaches. The Chosen one, Harry, had ridden the tide of his rage and Voldemort had died, even as Nagini's blood still flowed from her severed neck. Now, all the fallen Wards meant was that Severus could carry his precious cargo directly to the lab, which's door he kicked open, and heal his Harry's hands and feet, not to mention the burns, cuts and bruises of a long pitched battle.

"Sinkey!" A loud 'pop!' and his house elf appeared, "Clear the second bench, I will not be requiring the Wolfsbane any longer, and fetch the Healing box, some cloths and water." With a look of great sorrow, the little creature banished the contents of the cauldron and levitated the ingredients back to their places on the shelves. A quick Cushioning charm on the surface later and Severus lay his Harry down with utmost care, unwrapping the cloak as he did so. Harry's eyes fluttered open briefly and Severus admonished him with great affection;

"Rest now, Harry, your part is done and there is healing to do." His eyes glazed and closed again as Severus leaned over to press a gentle kiss on his brow. "I will be here next time you wake."

Sinkey returned then with a mahogany chest floating beside her and a large bowl of clean water and a stack of soft cloths. The chest he took immediately, opening it out to reveal racks of potions, powders and elixirs above a set of drawers that he left untouched for now. A quick rummage revealed a dark green potion with flecks of gold that he handed to Sinkey.

"For the use of Fred Weasley, if he yet lives, make sure he drinks it all." The _Felix _infused healing potion would increase the boys chances, at least. Unable to stay away from Harry any longer, he took up the blue strengthening potion, a great deal of dittany and a pain relief potion and returned to his love's side. He placed the potions on the far side of Harry's head and dumped the dittany directly into the faintly steaming water before gently sliding an arm under Harry's neck and shoulders to lift him. His head canted back onto Severus' bicep and he could begin to slip the potions into his mouth. Fortunately the strengtheners flavour was not dissimilar to pear-drops and Harry swallowed of his own accord, the pain reliever on the other hand had him choking and shuddering in unconscious disgust. For fear that his lover would suffocate, Severus cast a hasty gulping hex which he only removed once the potion was gone. Harry's breathing returned to a gentle rasp and green flickered up at Severus in a baleful glare.

"It was a pain potion, and I'm sorry to have woken you." A gentle thumb sweeping across Harry's bruised cheek bone soothed away the glare and caused him to sigh and lean into the warm palm.

"F'ks" Harry's voice broke before he even started and Severus frowned, too much use of _Sonorus_ to direct the battlefield, to sound the retreat into the castle, too much grieving, had worn his vocal cords to tatters.

"Shh, you'll hurt yourself," but Harry was already shaking his head,

"F'wks!" Harry's bloodied hand came to grip Severus' robes, much to his dismay, as the sliced up palm began to bleed anew. Perhaps he should have dosed the impertinent brat with Dreamless Sleep rather than a strengthener. He gently disentangled the hand and cradled it, kissing the bent fingers,

"Very well, I'll call your wretched chicken. Fawkes!" He looked mildly aggrieved, though mostly worried, as he sat down on a high stool, the hand in his lap, and began to dab at it with the dittany infusion, clearing away bits of rock and gravel. The sight of his lover's hands shredded and bleeding was almost enough to keep his mind off the fact that his mentor and father figure had died and disintegrated before his eyes. 'From the Earth, unto the Earth...' He shook his head of the image of Albus' ashes flying away on the wind as Harry screamed the retreat. Without Dumbledore they could not hold the line; they had soon been over run, but the time had come nonetheless and the Dark Lord had died. Severus thought that if he kept recalling it, returning to the memory, he might one day believe it. Perhaps.

The damned bird arrived in a twist of flame and landed next to Harry's shoulder, knocking the empty vials to the floor in the process. Severus merely glared and continued to treat his lovers injuries with gentle hands, now covering the cuts with a healing paste and wrapping them with gauze.

"I 'cept." Harry addressed the phoenix, but Severus was well aware that he was included in this; he had pushed for it, after all.

Harry's eyes closed again as the Wards sprung back up, anchoring themselves to the new Headmaster. He tensed at the intrusion of magic from the generations of students and faculty who had passively fed the school and Wards. This was not the best time to take up the mantle, injured and full of grief, but Harry had obviously come to the decision and Severus would support him, now more than ever.

"S'vrs. Go, Heal. 'm ok. Sl'p." Severus sighed and put down the hand he had just finished wrapping.

"You're insufferable, you know this. Not only do you run off immediately after a battle but now you take up thousand year old Wards and tell me to _go away_? DON'T you look at me like that, prat." He scowled as Harry began to look up at him with large, glistening eyes. He sighed almost violently. "Sleep. I will brew for the injured. Now sleep!" Harry half smirked before rolling over on his Cushioned bench so he could watch his potions master brew.

He was asleep halfway through the first batch of Blood Replenisher, one heavily bandaged hand dangling out of the cloak wrapped around him. By the end of the batch, Severus had tucked it back in and slid a pillow under Harry's head, just so he could concentrate.


	3. Greyback

By midnight there was a significant pile of parchment slips on the corner of the desk nearest the Floo and the stack of dirty cauldrons teetering by the sink had reached epic proportions. A green flicker announced the arrival of another message and Severus pulled himself away from smoothing back Harry's hair.

As he lent down to the hearth to retrieve the latest missive, his back gave a rough 'crack' and he groaned, even for a wizard in his prime eight hours straight of duelling and brewing was a bit much. The parchment was scrawled messily with the words:

_Patients stable, inc. Weasley. Nothing more to do tonight. Go to bed, Severus. _

Poppy Pomfrey's hand writing and tone where unmistakable and he sighed gratefully. Though he hadn't show it to Harry, the damn fool's escape into the forest had frightened him and he hoped that Fred Weasley's survival would ease his young lover's burden. Particularly because the Living Luck potion that he'd sent up for him had been brewed using the _Felix Felicis_ that Harry had donated.

Now free from the duties of a Potions Master, he turned back to the Cushioned bench that Harry was curled up on in a man-sized bundle of black cloth. It forever amused Severus that Harry's sleeping habits so closely mirrored those of his animagus form, all limbs tucked in and back curled, except when he was in the sun. Then, he _basked_. The image of black fur glistening in the sunlight taunted him for a moment before escaping into the cold shadows of the Lab. Vaguely unnerved by the jumbled quality of his thoughts, Severus shook himself mentally and carefully scooped Harry up, cloak and all, taking care with his bandaged hands and cure-bruised body.

The door through to his quarters opened of its own accord as he approached and he kicked it closed behind them. Harry's body heat had begun to seep into Severus's chest by the time he shouldered his way into his bedroom and it made him most reluctant to set Harry down, so he did so slowly and with great care. Once he had Harry settled on top of the covers he began to undo the warm cocoon of cloak and robes so he could put him to bed. Two cloaks, Severus's then Harry's, were unfastened and spread out on either side. Then Harry's robes, complete with faint littering of pine needles and emitting the scent of resin and smoke, where peeled back from the Basilisk hide armour plating his chest, arms and thighs. Looking rather like green dragon hide, the armour was faintly scored and pitted with a number of round burn marks, the defeated remains of countless cutting curses and innumerable other Dark spells that would have claimed Harry's life, had it not been for this armour. The buckles and fastening spells holding the plates to Harry's lithe frame eventually gave way to Severus's tired and potion stained fingers and the hide was dropped carelessly to the floor. Now all that remained was a soft pair of black trousers, a cotton T-shirt and an odd pair of socks. A _very_ odd pair of socks, _Dumbledore_ odd. Severus pulled them off and threw the lime green on into one corner and the orange one into another in the vain hope that they wouldn't breed.

He had more practice in divesting Harry of his remaining clothes and had him in his boxers quickly. The bare skin on his arms and legs began to pebble slightly and Severus pulled back the duvet on the other side of the bed and picked Harry up again to put him to bed proper. Severus quickly swept the remains of Harry's clothing to the floor, undressed himself and slipped in beside his lover. He turned Harry gently onto his side, arranging his limbs comfortably and stroking a palm down his flank in wordless comfort when Harry shifted weakly to fold his arms to his chest.

"L've you, S'vrus... Glad I dn't die..." Severus' chest clenched at that. The image of Harry on that mountain top, asking fate itself whether there was any point in living on, crashed into the forefront of his mind and he wrapped strong arms around Harry's torso.

"I'll never leave you, Harry James Potter. Don't you _dare _think about leaving me alone! Don't you dare." Severus practically growled into his lover's ear,

A soft, inarticulate murmur answered him and he settled again, burying his face in Harry's neck as they both drifted off into heavy, deep sleeps.

Harry woke first the next day, groggy, in pain and thirsty. The heavy weight of exhaustion sunk him into Severus' glorious mattress and he _really_ didn't want to move. He had obviously stretched out at some point during the night and his feet where sticking out from under the duvet, feeling rather chilly in the dungeon air, but the rest of him was gloriously warm from the larger, muscular body holding him to its chest. Even as tired as he was it was irresistible. Slowly, slowly, he drew his legs up, pausing occasionally to rest and make sure Severus was still asleep, then brought the chilly soles of his feet flush with Severus' shins.

The following expletives and convulsive hug was utterly, completely worth the effort. Plus he now had warm feet. Nonetheless, his hands still throbbed and the shoulder Greyback had shook him by (never had he been more grateful for his armour than during that skirmish) felt like it would never move again, it was so sore.

"You are an insufferable, irascible, complete and utter, irredeemable brat." Severus groaned into the middle of Harry's back, one of his thumbs stroking a soft circle on the skin just above Harry's belly button. "How're you feeling?" he propped himself up on his free elbow and leaned over to kiss Harry's temple.

"Like shit... thirsty, shoulder h'rts." The faint look of mischief on Harry's face faded quickly as he mumbled and Severus could not remain annoyed at the cold extremities stealing his body heat. A glance at the clock showed that it was already approaching sunset and Harry was long overdue for a dose of pain potion, not to mention the fact that neither of them had eaten or drunken anything in over twenty-four hours. He pulled himself away from his young lover with a hearty groan, making sure to tuck the covers down over Harry's shoulders as he stood.

"What happened to your shoulder?" he asked gently as he pulled on a clean robe to keep off the chill, pulling his wand off the bedside cabinet once he was done.

"Got picked up by m' arm. F'ing wolf." Harry rolled onto his back reluctantly, the effort making him pant faintly and close his eyes for a moment.

"Joint's Ease and a bone scan then... and a pain potion... I can't give you anymore strengthener, I'm sorry." He brushed Harry's hair off his face for him then brandished his wand, drawing a line from a foot directly above Harry's collarbone to above his navel the dropping down to inches above his belly and describing a figure of eight with the tip, moving only his wrist.

"_patefacio effrego!_" A golden-red mist rose from Harry's skin and coalesced into the shapes of his shoulder bones. Severus was pleased to note that Harry had escaped breaks elsewhere, at least. The image showed that Harry's humerus, the upper arm bone, had been wrenched and had a hairline fracture up near the joint, indicated by a little line of red sparks.

"There's a very small break in the bone, too small to use Skele-Gro," Harry looked rather relieved at this, "But you're not to move _at all_ until Madame Pomfrey immobilises it! That includes sitting up and rolling over any more." Severus made his way grumbling to the lab to fetch the required potions for reducing swelling and relieving pain. The usual whining about having to remain still did not come from Harry, who thought he may be having a flashback. The flash of green light he had fired into Greyback's eye wouldn't leave him alone and the noise of splintering bone as he cursed the dead wolf's jaw off so he could escape its bite, (strong even in death) kept echoing between his ears. At the time it had just been what he needed to do and he had expected to feel like this, but that didn't stop it from being painful, that he had killed someone, something. Grayback had been the first, but not the last...

"Harry, stop that. I have no energy for dissuading you of your misplaced guilt, whatever it may be for." He settled on Harry's side of the bed, potions in hand. The expression on Harry's face was like well executed quill-work to Severus and he stroked down his cheek comfortingly. Harry turned into the caress and gave a little sniffle with his eyes still closed before visibly gathering himself and opening his eyes to fix Severus' intense expression in his mind.

_Yes, it is sad that they died, but there is no place for guilt here..._ Harry drew strength from those fathomless eyes and nodded slightly, the memories chased away, for now.

"Very well. First is Joint's Ease, it is typically foul but you must swallow it all, the dosage is important." He helped Harry raise his head and allowed him to bring the potion to his own lips, with a steadying hand to help. A small thing, perhaps, but such things made getting Harry to take potions easier. After doing the same with his pain potions Severus fed him a glass of water and allowed him to rest back on the pillows. "Good boy..." Severus smiled softly and pressed a kiss to Harry's temple, a slightly crinkled temple as Harry frowned up at him in good natured irritation, already feeling drowsy from the painkillers.

"And you call _me_ insufferable." Harry's voice was still rough and gravely, but at least he managed to pronounce all of it this time.

"Go back to sleep, brat."

"Git." Harry mumbled back,

"Infantile whelp." Severus picked up the empty potions vials and pulled the covers over his drowsy lover.

"Totalitarial, totilate- total-... sod it..." Severus grinned to himself as he retreated to the lab to Floo Poppy.


	4. Beef Stew

Poppy Pomfrey had been unwilling to relocate most of her patients to the infirmary so the Great Hall had been transformed into a large hospital ward the previous evening. As the magical centre of the wards, the Hall had remained largely undamaged in the long exchanges of artillery fire that had ravaged the outer walls of the castle and as such, was housing most of the students and non-combatants as well as the injured. Though slightly crowded, it meant that everyone was in reach of everyone else, be it for aid or simple comfort. The more serious cases where gathered, with those kin who could not bear to be parted from them, on the teacher's dais; with conjured white curtains much like those in the infirmary to guard their privacy. Their location meant that Healers from St Mungo's could come and go easily through the teacher's entrance and atrium, which contained the nearest Floo.

Madam Pomfrey, as the resident Matron and hence best informed, had set up her Floo to redirect there and set up the atrium as a coordination centre where she could request potions from St Mungo's or Severus, hand out medical records to treating Healers and direct distraught family members to their children and loved ones. By that point she had used up all her magical reserves in emergency treatment, but running a ward was more than just spells and she performed the role of Head Healer admirable. Eventually, some eight hours after the battle's end and two hours after she sent word to Severus and Harry, she had transfigured her makeshift desk into a makeshift cot, set a freshly arrived Junior Healer to watch the Floo and fallen into an exhausted sleep. The sun had risen some hours ago and the House elves had very thoughtfully spelled the ceiling of the Great Hall into a lush and thick canopy, keeping the sleeping patients below in a comfortable twilight.

Healers continued to Floo back and forth, but Madame Pomfrey slept through it all as the heavy drain of triaging spells, ones she had had to cast innumerable times in the first few hours after the fight, had caught up with her. It wasn't until dinner that she woke again, somewhat recovered, and very hungry from magical expenditure. The sight of Hermione directing House elves like a General as they dished up beef stew and handed out fresh bread was a welcome one indeed. And the _smell..._

Once the House elves got 'round to the Healers, (served last at their own insistence) Poppy was firmly of the belief that Hermione was some incarnation of Athena, Goddess of warfare and companion of heroes. Poppy certainly thought she was a hero for organising such a perfect meal for the recuperating school; the stew could be easily fed to the invalids but remained hale and hearty for those who had expended vast quantities of magic. Add that it tasted utterly delicious and the Hall was soon full of appreciative noises. She was just wiping up the last of the rich gravy with her heel of bread when Severus Floo'ed, looking sleep rumpled but surprisingly awake.

"Madame, I require some assistance in treating Harry's injuries, and pray tell, what is that delectable scent?" Severus' dry tones made the corner of her mouth quirk while at the same time assuring her that Harry's condition was not serious.

"You caught me at just the right time Severus; I was just about to begin doing rounds. Rounds which would have no doubt included your Dungeon!" She rose from behind her re-Transfigured desk, "It's a good a place as any to begin. Shoo." She waved him back from the hearth and his head disappeared from the flames. She took a moment to gather her bag of diagnostic tools and the accounting of potions stocks before heading to the Floo herself. A quick spell to press and starch her uniform and she stepped through the flames, saying the pass phrase "Amortentia, Dungeon labs," as she cast the Floo powder.

When Severus returned to their bedroom he called his House elf, Sinkey, and a moment's conversation revealed the source of the wonderful smell in the small room of the Great Hall that his head had visited so briefly. She popped off to get some just as a muted roar announced the Floo re-opening.

"In the bedroom, Poppy!" he called as he made his way there himself. As he had half expected, Harry had not fallen back to sleep and was instead holding himself stiffly on his back, staring at the canopy with a look of deep emotional pain on his face. Severus sighed mentally as it was quickly covered with a grimace of more immediate pain from his arm. It cost Harry much less to show outer pain than inner pain, which was one of the reasons he had felt so alone after the battle. Severus was jerked out of his thoughts as Poppy brushed past him, a stern look on her face.

"Good morning, Madam Pomfrey..." Harry managed a smile as the Matron began casting diagnostic charms, though he didn't bother to hide that he was in pain.

"Evening, actually. I don't suppose you've eaten?" Her spells where thorough, the red sparks reappeared over Harry's shoulder and more over his throat, hands and feet. One thigh had a rectangular shape outlined in red, which Severus raised a pointed eyebrow at, reminding Harry that he should have said something.

"No, not since lunch yesterday... Stop looking at me like that, it's nothing." Harry dismissed the wound on his leg, which he'd accrued when the robes over top his armour had caught fire, hence the rectangular clear area in the middle.

"I've already ordered some stew from the House Elves, we'll eat as soon as Harry's shoulder is stabilised." Severus leaned against one of the oak posts at the bottom of the bed, keeping his pointed expression, forcing his lover to concede and explain what had happened to Madam Pomfrey.

"My robes where hit with the backwash of a fiendfyre, the armour protected me, its fine; I didn't even get hit by the actual spell." Well, a little more succinctly than Severus had hoped, but progress nonetheless.

"Some of your burn salve, if you would Severus." He nodded and stepped out to get the last of the stock. She turned back to her patient with her no-nonsense face on. "I'll have to paralyze the whole arm, I'm afraid, and add an Immobulus on top." His face was a picture; relief that he wouldn't feel it anymore and deep annoyance that he wouldn't have use of his arm.

"But-"

"AH! No arguing! If I get so much as a HINT that you try to remove either spell I will have you on bed rest for the month! You're not to exert yourself for at least a week as it stands! Magical exhaustion indeed, and what were you thinking, transforming yourself in that state! Your stomach and liver are those of a feline. Thank Merlin you're almost the same size..." By this point, Harry, The Chosen One, Destroyer of Moldy Shorts, looked thoroughly cowed, but at least that explained the vague urge to eat raw meat.

"Now. Hold still, and be quiet." Harry nodded and swallowed harshly against the roughness in his throat. He could see Severus back at the end of the bed and shot him a wry smile, receiving another raised eyebrow in return.

"Animagus Revelio! Constituo Cuspis. Immobilis." The first accompanied a smooth jab towards his stomach, the second a tap where the nerves passed through his shoulder and the third took a round-about route as Madam Pomfrey set his arm into a position in which it would stay for the next week, at the least.

An odd sensation Harry hadn't paid any attention to disappeared from his abdomen and then his arm went blissfully numb. The relief was utterly cathartic and he slumped limply into the cushions as the matron manipulated his arm. He was almost floating, he felt so light, and thought; '_this could be what being drugged was like.' _

The voices around him sounded far away for now.

"Some of your burn salve, if you would Severus."

As he walked through his living room Sinkey popped back in with a tray eclipsing her head, bringing with her the wonderful smell of fresh bread and stew. "On the coffee table, thank you. Any foods brought to Harry are to be edible with one hand for now. Dismissed."

The diminutive creature squeaked out a "Yes Master!" before she popped away. Severus resisted the tray and the smell for now, as tempting as the large bowl looked, sitting there on his mahogany coffee table, steaming away merrily... He pushed through the door to his lab, grumbling to himself about demanding bodily organs.

The shelves of the lab were truly pitiful, only ingredients and the occasional vial. He counted himself lucky there was some burn treatment left, though it was the green one that smelled so strongly of eucalyptus that it made him sneeze.

Returning to the bedroom at the end of Poppy's tirade, having deftly avoided looking at the food in the living room, he couldn't help but notice the grey pallor of Harry's skin and the pinched look of pain on his face. He tried to look encouraging. He believed Potter got the idea... Probably.

As Poppy finished her second spell, Severus lurched forwards in alarm. Harry had collapsed, his pupils dilated and his breathing ceased. His wand was out and '_ennervate'_ halfway of his tongue when Poppy interceded.

"Stop!" Her grip on his wrist was decidedly stronger than he had expected, but she still had to talk quickly before he made a mess of things. "He's fine, look, he's breathing easily now." She pulled his hand over Harry's mouth so he could feel the warm puff of air for himself. She gently removed his wand from Harry's vicinity.

Severus' heart was still pounding and his limbs began to tremble lightly, "What happened?" He snapped, though from the outside, it sounded shakier than he would ever admit.

"When I took the pain away, all the chemicals that control pain in the brain had nothing to act on anymore, he may be rather... blissful for five or ten minutes." She gently took the pot of burn salve from the potions master and sat him down on the side of the bed. "He's fine."

"You mean to tell me... that my lover is _high?"_ Severus absentmindedly picked up Harry's free hand from next to where he sat, staring incredulously at the Matron who had just given him the scare of his life and who was smiling rather mischievously.

"Of sorts, yes. Harry is very good at handling pain, so there are many of these chemicals. The effect is similar to taking your painkiller five in the absence of injury." She smiled a little wider as Severus glanced at Harry's face with a knowing expression.

"I see. Five minutes, you say? I see..." The hand holding Harry's slipped a few fingers up his arm to feel Harry's pulse but overall he looked to have gotten over his shock. "You mention this to no-one, Poppy, or so help me, not patient of yours will ever receive a pleasant tasting potion ever again." Severus' glower was convincing enough that Poppy felt like she could leave the two to their meal in peace.

"S'vrus? Hungry..." Harry's little voice sounded disturbingly like a whine and Severus sighed in relief, truly, the thought of that meal only one room away was getting to be a little much for the famished wizard.

By the time he looked up from Harry's blissful face, Poppy was striding through the door, with a parting shot;

"Don't forget that salve!"


	5. Bear hug

Harry did, indeed, come out of it within five minutes, just in time to witness Severus' calm and collected facade shatter as the man withheld a sneeze. Harry rather liked the smell of eucalyptus, he decided, as his lover carefully wrapped the burn with cotton to keep the salve from the bed sheets.

"Merlin help me, but I'm never making this version again..." Harry's sense of self preservation was obviously faulty as he couldn't help laughing at the second sneeze. He felt pleasantly floaty, and hungry.

"You said something about food?" He twitched the fingers on his right hand, all that he could move of the whole arm, and looked pitiful. He did, admittedly, also _feel_ pitiful. His lover merely snorted and nodded without comment, wiping his hands on a hand towel that had sat on the bedside table. A quick flick of his wand brought the tray of beef stew, still-warm bread and soft butter floating in from the next room.

The duvet Severus had drawn up over his legs felt very heavy indeed as Harry tried to push himself up into a sitting position with his heels and good elbow. It was somewhat too much, too soon, after magical and physical exhaustion and he slumped back into the pillows without making much progress. Severus quirked an eyebrow at him and sat on the bed next to his shoulder, slipping a hand under the back of his neck as he leaned down.

"Foolish brat..." He leaned the last few inches and pressed his lips to Harry's in a chaste kiss. Harry's skin felt cold under his lips and hand and he sat up again, turning so his back rested against the headboard. Some cautious manoeuvring later had a thick flannel shirt of Sev's spelled onto Harry's torso and Harry's largely limp body snugged up against his chest so he was sitting up between Severus' legs. "You're cold and your hand is shaking, both side effects of exhaustion and low blood sugar. I would not expect to be rid of them quickly." He stroked a warm hand down Harry's chest, smoothing the fabric down.

"S' ok, you're warm and the stew smells 'mazing..." Harry tugged the duvet slightly further up his legs and tilted his head up to look at his lover, placing a soft kiss on his jaw bone. "Love you," His voice was soft as summer sun and elicited a heavy sigh from the chest behind him.

"Gryffindor." He shifted him mouth until it was directly next to Harry's ear and whispered, "Of all the utterly asinine things you cause in me, my love for you is the one I hold most dear." Lifting his head and glancing at the tray of food as he summoned it to hover just above their legs he raised his voice to normal levels, "If you are quite finished, I am starving."

The pleased flush on Harry's face said it all and he dropped his head back to rest against his lovers' shoulder, eyes closed. He didn't open them again until Severus had fed him nearly half a bowl of meaty chunks and was buttering the fresh bread. As each morsel had reached his mouth the soft touch of a finger tip to his bottom lip signalled to him to open his mouth and the food was placed carefully on his tongue. He had even managed to lick Severus' fingers teasingly once or twice, though they were both too languid to get excited.

"I need to make an appearance." Harry's voice surprised Severus, who had been sure he would sleep for a few more hours with a full stomach; two just wasn't enough to repair his reserves in the slightest. Severus had only just woken up and had a shower himself, (cleaning charms only went so far to remove potions fumes) and he hadn't fought the toughest duel of the century just 24 hours before. He turned to the bed as he buttoned up his white uniform shirt,

"And what, exactly, leads you to believe you are in any shape to leave that bed, let alone this room?" He lifted his chin slightly to button the collar, simultaneously looking down his nose at the pitifully limp pile of his incapacitated lover, swathed in an over large shirt and curled on his left side.

"It's the right choice. The Minister just crossed the wards, you _know _what he'll do, now that Al-.. The Headmaster has passed away. A show of strength might just prevent another Umbridge!"

"You don't have any strength_ left_ to show." Severus marched to the bed, where Harry had been trying, with limited success to sit up on his own, and slipped an arm around his back and shoulders so Harry would stop expending the energy to hold himself up. It was a testament to his condition that he slumped back into the support, though he didn't let the determined glare falter one iota.

"Then help me, if I'm at least in the Great Hall then the people who fought will look to us for leadership, rather than having to accept whatever he says." He tilted his head so those brilliant green eyes bored into Severus'. "Wrap me in cotton, Levitate me, heck, even carry me if you think it'll make it easier on me, but _please_, let me support the people I have fought for."

They shared a long glare, though their wills where of almost equal strength, Harry had logic and precedent on his side and Sev eventually turned away with a shudder as he remembered the utter chaos that Umbridge had caused. Once the moment was broken, Sev gave a sardonic laugh, "When did you become so eloquent, you insolent, insufferable alley cat?" he drew his lover into a hug before firmly pushing him back to the mattress. "Very well," He gave a long suffering sigh, picking up the tight fitting robe tunic to pull on over his shirt. "I will help you in this, but hear me, if you complain even once about the potions I feed you, with Merlin as my witness I will Transfigure you into a kitten and bottle feed you!" The stern raised eyebrow and abrupt movements as he pulled his final layer of robe on showed a combination of irritation and amusement that only Sev could have pulled off.

"Hey now, that doesn't sound so bad..." Harry's pained smile gave the potions master pause and reason to sigh. "Just eating and sleeping, preferably curled up in your arms, sounds great right now."

"Perhaps... once the repairs are done, you can be care-free for a while..." the understanding on his lovers face made Harry's chest clench and his throat tighten in longing for something he had never had, a little peace.

"Bastard..." Harry choked out, turning his face into his pillow, "you choose now to give me something to live for?" The warm hand rubbing his back gave him back a little of the strength that the simple statement had stripped from him and he lifted his head again. "Now help me up before the Scrimgeour hits the fan." He declared with a slightly brittle and determined grin.

With that Severus nodded and became all business, he stood swiftly and drew his wand, focusing for only a moment before summoning shirt, tunic, trousers and robes for his lover, burgundy for the tunic and black for the rest. Harry obligingly rolled over onto his back so Sev could spell the clothes onto him, giving a little shiver when the cool fabric touched his skin. He was supplied with a warming charm before he could even blink.

"You must tell me if you become cold, once we leave these rooms. Becoming chilled is dangerous to you for now..." With that thought in his head, Severus pointed his wand at the comforter at the bottom of the bed, muttered something under his breath and transcribed a circle with the tip of his wand. The comforter melted, retaining its dark, red-ish brown colour, and reformed into a heavy fur pelt. Severus was not as good at transfiguration as to give it the specific character of any one animal but the colour and thickness would make it pass for bear, to all but Minerva. A second wand flick turned a pair of cufflinks into a clasp and he cast a Featherlight Charm on the whole thing.

"See, I'll be warm and look like a Bulgarian Prince, what more could the good Minister ask for?" Severus contemplated giving the cloak a hood with ears on for the sardonic tone of Harry's voice but dismissed the petty revenge in favour of giving his lover a serious look.

"We'll give him a war hero, Harry. One supported by the people and his family, he will be unable to deny your power." He gathered Harry into his arms, wrapping him in the cloak as he did so that the Charm would lighten him and keep him warm. A small, calloused hand snuck out and gripped Sev's robes,

"The war might be over, but there are still battles to be fought, thank you for helping me get to this one." Harry looked up at his lover with a faint, lopsided smile.

The potion master just huffed, hitched Harry more firmly into his arms and strode with purpose out of their rooms.

AN: Thank you all for reading, Favourite'ing and Alerting! What do you all think of the story so far? Also, any input on how you would like to hear the backstory?

How did Severus and Harry get over their differences? How did Harry find his Animagus form? How did Dumbledore survive the 6th year plot?

I have the answers to this lot all planned out, would you readers read a prequel? Or would lengthy (whole chapter) flashbacks work better as the past becomes relevant to the future? Just drop an opinion into a review.

~Rose~


	6. knock knock

The trip to the Entrance Hall passed quietly as Harry conserved his strength and tried to work out what to say when faced with the Minister. He had little doubt that the people he had fought alongside would support him, weakness or no, given how they had pulled together during and just after the battle. He had managed to hold back the grief long enough after the Headmasters death to rally them back into the fight and then later to begin healing the wounded. It had felt natural that they had followed his directions at the time, though now it felt oddly heavy, burdensome.

His musings lead him naturally to Fred Weasley, who's broken body had been one of the first he'd ordered taken off the field, his hand clenched involuntarily on Sev's lapel;

"Oh god, did Fred live? I saw his back... Merlin, did the-" he babbled almost incoherently and Severus felt no qualms about talking over him,

"Yes, he is stable. Thanks to you." He tightened his grip on Harry's fur covered shoulders in lieu of a hug, "Living Luck indeed."

Harry reeled briefly in relief and took a deep breath; Fred's injury had been horrific, made even more so by the fact that he had survived to feel it. Only a great deal of time and Skele-Grow would show whether he would ever walk again.

"Teachers entrance? Madame Pomfrey is stationed there; it may give you the high ground." Severus had headed automatically for the little atrium and Harry's nod confirmed the decision. As he stepped through the arch leading out of the Entrance Hall the immense wooden doors boomed twice as the Minister requested admission. Harry, in his power as Holder of the Wards and Doors of Hogwarts, bade the portcullis to rise. Slowly.

"Three minutes, Sev. Tops." He took another deep breath and sat up a little straighter in his lovers arms, willing calm and stillness to his hands.

The corridors here, near the middle of the wards, showed little structural damage but a great deal of dust and chips of stone bore testament to the bombardment that the outer wings had suffered. The smell of the forest and of smoke showed that somewhere a large section of corridor must have been open to the grounds, despite the labours of the house elves. Severus noted that the suits of armour that usually lined the hallway next to the Great Hall where missing and he wondered whether Miss Granger had managed to convince them to help the rebuilding.

Once they reached the de-facto triage office the dust and stone had a multitude of scuffed footprints, most coming from or leading to the Teachers Entrance. The double doors opened of their own accord and Harry drew a deep, fortifying breath.

"Take me to Dum- Alb- Damnit..." He ducked his head and trembled briefly,

"Calm yourself, Harry. I understand." Severus kept his head and voice low so the healers on break in the atrium wouldn't hear. "Breathe."

He straightened up and swept through the room and into the Great Hall with as much dignity as he could muster, carrying a fur bundle with a pair of sheep-skin booted feet sticking out one side as he was. Quiet radiated out from the pair as they strode to the front of the teachers dais, skirting the curtained ward. Harry spotted a Weasley through a gap in the privacy screen and his plan fell into place, as if it had always been obvious.

"Ron." Harry's voice carried naturally, to every ear in the room, much as Professor Dumbledore's always had. Complete silence fell, barring the snuffling on one small child, over near where Hufflepuff table usually sat. "Hermione. Dobby. Shacklebolt. To me."

Severus set him down with great care on the Headmasters chair, very grateful that the thing had arms for Harry to lean against, and took a step back to stand just behind and to the left of Harry's shoulder. The great gilt and mahogany chair was covered in black velvet, out of respect for the dead, and had been pushed to the very front of the dais, the teachers table was nowhere to be seen, nor were the house tables, for that matter. Harry muttered a quiet 'thank you' to his lover as he settled into the velvet, leaning back and propping himself up while trying to maintain a semblance of dignity for the sake of the Minister, he only had a minute at best remaining.

Dobby was the first to arrive, appearing with a soft pop to Harry's right and laying a small, greenish hand on Harry's sleeve and waiting in silence. Hermione had the furthest to walk from where she had been holding a meeting with the Heads of House whose dormitories the barrage had severely damaged. Minerva and Fillius followed her towards the new Headmaster but Pomona Sprout headed towards the largest cluster of yellow and black students which looked to Severus to be most of the first through forth year Hufflepuffs. This observation lead him to take an accounting of how the other Houses were handling this, especially the young students, and found similar groups scattered throughout the hall. What truly surprised him was that the patches of green and red were very close together, almost mixing amongst the mess of mattresses, pillows and blankets covering the floor. In fact, most of the bedding in that area was the dark emerald green of Slytherin. Severus felt a deep burst of pride in his Godson when he saw Draco sitting in the middle of the red and green mess, one of the Gryffindor cubs who's lives he and Harry had saved almost eight months before sitting contentedly in the seventeen-year-old's lap.

"Malfoy brought up everything he could find from Slytherin, it was the only dorm that was safe to get to." Ron Weasley's voice was rather a surprise, coming from Severus's right, having obviously followed his gaze to the unusual gathering of red and green. The red-head laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, neatly avoiding the faint yellow glow of Madame Pomfrey's magic. "He's helped a lot of the littler ones today."

Harry continued to look out over the quiet room, returning the gazes of students and adults alike, and studiously avoiding grimacing at the patch of hall where the bodies had been laid out the last time he had been in this room. There were long gone now, but the image of black cloth covered after black cloth covered body would haunt him, he knew, for a long time. Now, that patch had been taken over by the healers and held rows of beds with the mostly-healed resting in and the face he would make at remembering those bodies would hardly be appropriate.

"'Littler' is most certainly not a word, Mr Weasley. Good grief..." Severus' dry tones whispered over the top of his head. Ron simply ignored him and addressed Harry.

"Fred's going to be fine. He says his legs tingle but he spent a whole ten minutes wiggling his toes. Thought you should know." Ron went up in Severus' estimation as Harry sat up a little straighter, looked that little bit more determined and almost smiled.

"Thanks mate." He muttered in a quiet tone, watching Hermione and Minerva's progress through the crowded hall. Fillius had peeled off to go to a group of Ravenclaws, older ones, on the way. Once she was in range of private conversation she started babbling,

"Oh Harry! Are you ok? We were so worried! And then Pomfrey said you were fine, but that we weren't to disturb you and I thought you were really hurt, it wasn't that feindfyre, was it? I was sure basilisk hide wou-"

"'Mione." The witch halted in her tracks, her hand stilling on Harry's cheek were she was, presumably, checking his temperature. The laughter in his eyes stripped the worry from her shoulders and she stood up straight with a faint huff and just a touch of a blush on her face.

"Well, that's alright then." She stepped back and stood next to Ron, their shoulders brushing lightly,

"I called you up here because the Minister is just about to walk through that door. Minerva, Ron, you two have dealt the most with the DMLE, if Madam Bones is with him you're to work with her, if not, try and maintain, ah, you too Shacklebolt," The black Auror loomed as he reached the group, easily the tallest of them all, "Try and maintain an Order presence amongst the Auror's, I don't want them doing anything rash, just because the Minister is throwing his weight around." The three nodded and the group rearranged itself so they were standing together and could converse in low tones.

"'Mione, Dobby, take the press. He will have brought someone, let's just hope Skeeter isn't the only one, what happened here needs to get out there truthfully and quickly." Dobby looked like he might pop with pride and Hermione nodded seriously and conjured a jar with a metal lid full of air holes, as leverage.

"We'll handle the Minister." With that, Harry turned his attention to the door of the Great Hall, asking Hogwarts to open them and allow the Minister and his retinue in. The occupants of the hall turned as one to the creaking doors, Harry noted apprehension and fear in many faces as they whipped back to him for reassurance that this was not another attack. The calm look on his and Severus' faces and their utter lack of surprise went a long way, especially amongst the students. "Welcome, Minister!" though Harry spoke in a normal tone, his voice again carried unnaturally, and the looks given to the opening doors and the Minister just visible between them changed to guarded curiosity. "Please, come in." Once the doors were wide enough for three people abreast, Percy Weasley, Madam Bones and a gaggle of the press core were visible. A number of students were unable to withhold their giggles at the sight of the Minister about to knock on a door that was no longer there. "Please, come in and close the door, you're letting all the warm air out." 


	7. Storm Averted

"Please, come in and close the door, you're letting all the warm air out."

Rufus Scrimgeour was not an unimposing man, with his head of wild hair, navy blue suit, and black shoulder cape. Not to mention the cane he carried to offset his limp. The effect was rather spoiled, however, by the great number of "Excuse me"s and "Pardon"s as he navigated the Hall. Severus hid his smirk as he realised that they couldn't have arraigned a better way to take the wind out of his sails if they'd spent days planning. Dobby and Hermione slipped much more easily through the mess, taking a more round-about route that went between instead of through established groups. The two cut off the gaggle of press and redirected them with little objection into a clearer space where they stood with quills poised and eyes flicking between the two main players, listening intently.

Once the Minister, DMLE Head and Percy reached a clearer area in front of the Headmaster's chair (which Harry presumed had been used to feed the masses as a large cauldron of stew stood mostly empty to one side) conversation had restarted in the Hall, mostly wondering "why now?".

As the Headmaster's chair had been pushed to the front of the dais there was no room for the Minister to join them without losing eye contact with Harry, or having to talk to the side of his head. This fact, or possibly that Harry was sitting in the Headmaster's chair, was clearly irritating the Minister. Little escaped Severus from his vantage just behind Harry and the Minister was receiving the brunt of his attention. He just hoped that Harry had seen it; perhaps they could offer a private space for this conversation? It would take the Minister away from the impressionable students, at least... but no, Harry could not afford to show the same kind of weakness to the Minister as he had to his... subjects, for lack of a better word. To be carried out in full view of the man would be particularly damaging.

"Welcome, Minister, Madam Bones." He paused, looking at Ron's brother with slightly sad compassion, "Percy, Fred was hurt, he's in the ward behind me, maybe you should go visit? Your Mum's there too." Harry spoke in soft tones that wouldn't carry and Severus was so strongly reminded of Albus that he froze for a moment. From the outside, this was unnoticeable as he habitually stood so still that he could be mistaken for a piece of marble statuary, though Harry would have noticed had his eyes not been focused forwards. It made Severus realise that the Headmaster's ability to command the room was not just an 'Albus'ism, one of the esoteric skills the man had accumulated, but a function of the position itself, a part of the Wards Harry had taken up.

Percy blanched at some point during Harry's statement, though whether it was at the mention of his brother or his Mother was unclear, and he thanked him quickly as he scuttled past, eyes on the white curtains. Ron walked beside him briefly, as Severus tracked their progress in the corner of his eye, and pointed him to the right place before turning back to the group.

"Mr Potter, the Minist-" Scrimgeour began, and while Harry seemed perfectly content to let him finish his sentence, Minerva was not so lenient.

"Excuse me, Minister, but I think you'll find the proper form of address is 'Headmaster Potter'," Severus _just_ restrained his smile at Minerva's tone, it never failed to remind him of his years under her tutelage, and it was apparent that the Minister was experiencing the same phenomenon. The comment caused quite the stir, in all corners of the Hall, especially the group of reporters, many students were grinning though some looked simply shocked. Including Draco Malfoy, who also looked irritated... surely not... ah, yes, Seamus Finnigan sidled closer to the Slytherin Prince and held out a palm, into which Draco dropped two shiny galleons. Severus couldn't help but be amused as his Godson sent him a baleful glare. Dean Tomas also looked put out and paid the Irishman directing _his _glare at McGonagall. A three way bet then.

The Minister's spluttering brought Severus' attention back to the confrontation,

"I- I was not informed of this, surely he is too young-!"

"My apologies, Minister, I should have Owled you." Harry's quiet voice had a disarming quality to it, soothing. He didn't mince his words, however, and the intimation that who was Headmaster was little of Scrimgeour's business was cuttingly clear. Severus took half a step forwards as the angry blush rose up the man's neck.

"Perhaps a letter to the Hall of Records is in order, Headmaster. If you would..?" Harry's Slytherin side was showing as he glanced up at his lover then to the main doors to the Hall.

"Fawkes." A ball of fire appeared above the clear space in front of the doors, before being shredded into streams behind the Phoenix's wings. The golden shimmer caught in the setting sun and Severus couldn't help but appreciate the bird's flare for the dramatic. The overgrown chicken landed gracefully on the arm on the Headmaster's chair and crooned at Harry, rubbing his crest along his cheek.

"Severus, if you would pen an appropriate notification? Thank you." Severus could practically _taste_ the change in Scrimgeour's estimation of Harry as he gave a short bow and stepped off the dais, trusting Minerva, Weasley and Shacklebolt to look after his lover for now. He headed for Draco, who inevitably had the appropriate tools for high-end correspondence in his school bag.

Harry watched Severus for a brief moment, wishing he'd had a chance to read a paper, even the Daily Prophet before this impromptu meeting, as it stood, he had no idea what had been reported.

"There, now that's sorted, what can I do for you, Minister?" He turned his eyes back to Scrimgeour, trying to look as calm and collected as Severus. His efforts seemed to pay off, the Minister looked at him with a slightly off-balanced expression, as if he couldn't quite work Harry out.

"We are in the aftermath of war, Mr.- ah, Headmaster Potter," He glanced at Fawkes as he stumbled over the title, "Given the death of the great Albus Dumbledore, we have lost both the Headmaster and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, both positions of great responsibility and leadership!" the Minister gave Harry a very brief look at this point and it was clear that he wasn't sure that Harry was up to the task. "A fifth, a FIFTH! Of the Wizarding community in this country have children in this school or within a year or two of enrolment, Hogwarts _must _be a place of strength!" His cloak snapped as he paced up and down in front to Harry's chair.

"I agree." Harry looked down at Fawkes, now settled in a warm lump in his lap, so that the Minister would feel his unbalanced expression went un-noted, it did not, but the man would be more manageable if he thought so. After a moment, he looked back up piercingly.

"Let us be frank, Minister," He looked at Ron and made a little circular motion with one upwards pointing finger, the Golden Trio's signal for privacy spells, a _muffliato _went up quickly, blocking out everything but the two of them. The group of reporters gave immediate and vociferous protest, Harry saw Severus look at the group with distinct distaste. After a moment they calmed again and the potions master returned to drafting the letter to the Hall of Records. Hermione had a firm hold on the reporters' attention with her recitation of the Battle.

"Hogwarts should and _is_ a place of strength, Minister. Not thirty-six hours ago, the darkest Lord this country has seen in a thousand years, was destroyed, within these very Wards! All the people in this room fought in that fight, witnessed those spell lights and helped heal the wounded." Harry paused to catch his breath and beckoned the Minister closer.

"Look at them, Rufus," He knew he was taking a chance by using the man's first name but Dumbledore had always made it clear that Minister and Headmaster should be on... friendly terms. He gestured out at the mixed crowd of fighters and children, "Even the first years saved lives yesterday, and it has made them strong. They have no more magic than they did a week past, they know no more spells, but because they are together, this generation, MY generation, fought off an army." Harry slumped back, a little whiter than before, after his impassioned words,

"They asked me, before this began, to lead them, to protect them and to keep them alive. I did not always succeed," He let his grief surface and it clawed up his throat like tar, "Classmates, teachers, Aurors... many died... but more survived, mainly because they worked together, with a common goal. I have taken their lives on my shoulders, and I have led them through a war and into the sunlight."

Harry let that sink in, he could see the rapid thoughts behind Scrimgeour's tense jaw and rapidly shifting gaze and he hoped that he fell on the side of alliance, rather than that of a fruitless power struggle.

"Very well, Mr. Potter... I will not interfere with your school. You have shown your competence." The Minister remained facing the crowd, folding his hands on his cane. His shoulders visibly relaxed and his back shifted as if he was taking a deep breath. "I will, however, elect a new Chief Warlock. I... would appreciate your input on the matter, as both the Chosen One, and the new Headmaster but I cannot allow you to inherit that position as well, not unless you have a L.L.A.M.A. It is not a simple post. I _will_ leave Madam Bones to organise the DMLE staff still on the grounds, do not hesitate to retain as many Aurors as are needed." He turned his head slightly, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye, "For now, however, I believe it is time your Healer was let inside your privacy ward."

Harry grinned at this and relaxed a little more completely, slumping against the sides of the chair and feeling more secure in this swiftly forged alliance, "Am I that obvious? And here I was thinking I had a little subtlety. She will, no doubt, be furious that I am out of bed."

The Minister joined in with a low chuckle that matched is lion-esque appearance. "I had rather expected to find you unconscious, and to be able to appoint Professor McGonagall straight to the Headship." His chuckles died down again and he turned to face Harry, "Are you sure, lad? She can still take over for you; it would not be a hardship..."

Harry was pleasantly surprised, he had expected that one of the Governors or another outsider would be the Ministers choice; he had been dreading another Umbridge. "I'm sure, Minister. Hogwarts is my home."

After a further moment of scrutiny, the Minister nodded and straightened his back, "Very well. I will make the announcement now. With luck, the press vultures will all run home to their editors and leave us both in peace for the evening." He stepped up onto the lip of the dais and held out his hand to Harry, who took it and allowed his arm to be shaken firmly.

"Good luck with the vultures, Minister, and... thank you for your concern, after my past dealings with the Ministry... it means a lot." He looked up and made eye contact with Ron, who dropped the privacy spell. He, McGonagall and the two Aurors, Kingsley and Madam Bones, appeared to be in heavy discussion about storage of the captured Death Eaters until trial. With the Dementors gone, binding the convicts' magic would be no small task. Ron neatly drew their attention to the Minister and Headmaster by over-exaggerating his _Finite_. True to form, Madam Pomfrey was hovering at the edge of the dais, ready to swoop in on Harry the moment it would not cause a political incident. Harry avoided looking her in the eye; for fear that he might spontaneously combust under the weight of her ire. Severus had also returned, fine parchment, sealing wax and inked quill in hand, followed closely by Draco. The Potions Master was looking rather smug and Harry speculated that he had probably lip-read the entire conversation and was refusing to reiterate it to his Godson.

"I hope our next meeting finds you in better health, Headmaster. Until next time." With that, the lion of a Minister turned and picked his way back towards the exit, only to be swiftly swamped by the press. Harry nodded to Hermione that she should accompany him and the big double doors closed behind the rabble.

AN:

L.L.A.M.A : Law, Legislature and Ministry Affairs. An accreditation required for positions of State.

Read and Review! Don't forget that I'd like your opinions on how to bring in the two years preceeding the final battle, Harry's sixth and seventh. Would you like to see it in flashbacks? Or should I just go ahead and write it up as a prequel?

Sky-speed,

Rose.


	8. Mobilization

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! Headmaster or not, you are the most foolish, irresponsible, bull-headed young man I have ever seen!" Madame Pomfrey had wasted no time starting in on Harry, once the echoes of the doors' closing thud had faded.

"I'm sure." He replied as he leaned his head back against the black velvet and closed his eyes. "Fawkes, Severus has a letter for you. To the Hall of Records at the Ministry." He felt the warm weight leave his lap and shivered. It was a great weight off his chest that his rapport with the Minister was getting off to a good start and he felt it was worth the truly awful sensation of weakness he had brought upon himself. _Madame Pomfrey and Severus might not agree, though._

Severus was indeed in two minds about Harry's current state, watching on he felt pride at Harry's disarming words and he knew that his act of following Harry's instructions without even a backward glance had made their point nicely. However, the Headmaster's skin was almost white, the rings under his eyes had darkened and he sat completely limp in the chair. The mutterings amongst the crowd mirrored Severus' concerns and he felt another touch of pride at the loyalty his lover inspired in these people. He handed the notification letter to Fawkes only slightly warily, those talons could be vicious, and he disappeared in a pillar of flames. He immediately returned his attention to Harry and the nurse.

Her diagnostic scans didn't show much more than they had previously, magical exhaustion, and she was obviously riled by what she viewed as reckless behaviour. In order to keep some of Harry's dignity he stepped forwards and gathered him up in his bearskin cloak,

"Madame Pomfrey, a bed in here would not go amiss, perhaps near the Weasley's?" He looked down at Harry after seeing the matron's stern nod. He was smiling and had turned his face into Severus' robes with his eyes closed. Sev just sighed and kept his face blank, sure that the entire crowd was watching the group at the head table; they would need reassurance, soon.

As he passed Minerva she reached out and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, Ron Weasley gave him a respectful nod, even Shacklebolt acknowledged him. He found it somewhat surreal still, that people, as a general rule, respected him. Conversation picked up in the Hall as he stepped around the Headmaster's chair, headed for the break in the curtains that led into the temporary ward. Madame Pomfrey was waiting inside and pulled back a second curtain to allow him and his burden into a little 'room' made of white fabric and containing a hospital bed and a stack of blankets. She waved her wand at the bed and the blankets arranged themselves into a made bed, with the covers folded back.

Severus set Harry down on the mattress, curled over on his side, and pulled the bearskin cloak tight around him, then covered him with blankets too. Harry's eyes opened briefly and he gave a brilliant smile as he felt Severus' magic trickle over his skin, followed by delicious warmth.

"Thanks, Sev. Love you." He let his eyes close again as Severus plucked his glasses off and rested a hand over them, kissing his forehead.

"Sleep, idiot, before Poppy has my head." Harry quirked a little smile at that,

"I wanted to speak to the students... How are they? Oh god... the parents!" Severus stroked his hand down Harry's cheek soothingly

"I'm sure Severus can handle it, to sleep now, Mr Potter!" another wave of her wand tucked the blankets in and cocooned Harry comfortably on his side. He gave in to his weakness rather quickly and his breathing visibly evened out.

Severus took a reluctant step back and, without managing to pull his gaze away from Harry's face, he spoke to Madame Pomfrey;

"I will send someone to sit with him, soon..." He closed his eyes and turned away, pulling his blank mask tightly around him.

"I'll fetch a Weasley in the meantime, you go on now." She ushered him out of the curtained room with little fluttering gestures. He stopped in the 'corridor' and took a deep breath to prepare himself before stepping back out onto the open section of the teachers' dais. The crowd showed less reaction this time, the absence of the headmaster, perhaps?

Minerva, Ronald Weasley and the Aurors were still in their huddle, Draco had called Dobby and was interrogating the creature about the Press and Mrs. Granger had yet to return. He took a moment for his own, thinking about what needed to be done, what had probably already been set in motion and who to ascribe jobs to. With Sinistra, Lupin and Trelawney dead and Firenze gone back to the Herd, there were three subjects without teachers entirely and the Grounds would need Sprout and Hagrid's devout attentions for some time to even begin to be safe for unsupervised students. Though, perhaps with the aid of the student body and their parents... The walls of Hogwarts herself would take as much attention, though the only workers the castle allowed where her House Elves so there was little to be done to speed that up except remove their other duties, such as cooking and everyday cleaning. He had little doubt that Mrs. Granger would have seen to that, somehow.

On that note, he strode over to Dobby and Draco, catching the end of their conversation;

"-Is being saying that Master Headmaster Harry Potter Sir is going to be the bestest Headmaster Sir-"

"Yes, Dobby, I'm sure the Minister is being suitably supportive." Severus' drawl made the house elf jump an easy half-foot; he thought he might be losing his touch. "What is being said of Albus?" He managed to conceal his shiver of grief, just.

"That he died in battle, Sir. Defending his students." Draco answered, seeing Dobby break out into big, fat tears.

"Very well. He would, no doubt, be pleased." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and changed the track of the conversation. "Harry expressed some worry about the parents, how many are here already and how many Owls have we received?"

"With the Floos down and the Apparition wards up, only Ministry families have been able to get here. As for owls, well... we've run out of parchment for replies, so not many reassurances are getting out." He handed Dobby a slightly grubby silk handkerchief, casting an absorbent charm usually used to mop up potions spills on the fabric. "You're lucky I've held my Ministry Parchments this long, I gave my Gringotts Requisition sheets to the Hufflepuff third years this afternoon."

Severus resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose; letters out of the school would be the best way to spread the right news to the right people and keep the younger children calm. "And why, precisely, in a school that runs on parchment and ink, have we run out?" He growled out,

"No House Elves and no access to the dorms so no one can get at their trunks, plus a boulder broke the Flourish and Blotts' Never-Ending Parchment Charm in the school stores." Draco kept looking back at his little group of Gryffindor and Slytherin First and Second years while they spoke, Severus noted, feeling pride that his Godson was taking such good care of them. "Most haven't changed clothes since the battle either, barring the Slytherins' who've helped out by fetching bedding. Mostly sixth and seventh years."

"Very well, talk to someone from each Slytherin dorm room; tell them we need more parchment and that anyone who goes can get a change of clothes for themselves and any of their friends as well." Severus spoke slowly, as if he had something else on his mind in addition to the current problem,

"Draco... I have a feeling Heads of House are not going to be enough to keep everyone organised. What would you say to being appointed Head of Year for First and Second years?" Draco looked slightly stunned and opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. "Longbottom for fifth and sixth... perhaps the Weasley girl for third and fourth, leaving the remainder of the Golden Trio to handle the Aurors, press and house elves."

Draco remained stunned but managed a nod as the cogs picked up speed. "I would be honoured Sir, but shouldn't we clear it with McGonagall? And Potter?"

Severus leapt on that, sending a dagger-infested look at Draco, "Harry is not to be disturbed, Mr. Malfoy. Understood?" The blonde quailed slightly and nodded,

"Right, Sir, I'll just go talk to those Slytherins, shall I? And tell the firsties and second years who to come to for help?" he sidestepped towards the edge of the dais, pointing at his little group of young minions.

"You do that, Draco. I will talk to the Deputy Headmistress." Severus watched him go with a smirk, Yeah, he hadn't lost his touch. "Oh, and send up young Tristan and Isaac, to sit with Harry."

Looking out over the Hall, he marvelled at how much his opinion of certain students had changed over the last two years. Perhaps it was Ms. Granger's influence or changes in his own perception but Harry's year mates had gone through reckless abandon and out the other side into calculating determination. Rather than charging headlong into trouble they had marched to war, full of conviction and backed by brilliant strategy. Mr Weasley's input had been invaluable on the fields in front of Hogwarts; it had been his idea to use the school brooms to take out the Giant powered catapults in a spectacular piece of aerial combat. Longbottom too, had proved his mettle, practically inventing 'Battle Herbology' on the spot. Severus, for one, would never forget how morbidly _impressive_ Devil's Snare crossed with Venomous Tentacular had been. The unfortunate plants had been _Incendio'ed_ fairly early on, but not before capturing and shredding the first rank of Death Eaters. Even aflame, the plants had formed an impenetrable part of the barricades. Yes, he would be a good choice to lead the Fifth and Sixth years, he would assign them to Hagrid to repair the Greenhouses and Grounds.

With that, Severus turned to Minerva, Mr Weasley the youngest and the Aurors to help finalize the transport of prisoners. Later, he would talk to the Deputy Head about mobilising the students and setting up Draco, Longbottom and Miss Weasley-the-youngest as Heads of years.

A/N: I'm back at University now, so chapters might slow down again. Unless you put nitro and Haribo in my fuel tank. i.e. Review. It genuinely gives our motivation and muses a kick in the posterior.


	9. Forging an Alliance

Draco understood Severus' final order immediately_, he really has gone soft_, he thought with a mental shake of the head. Tristan and Isaac were Second year Gryffindors and Slytherins, respectively. At the end of their first year, Harry and Draco's Sixth, they had run afoul of Nagini in the circle of standing stones near Hagrid's hut. Draco, seeing them oblivious to the danger, had stepped in; unaware that Harry Potter was nearby;

_Flashback: Sunday, one month into the spring term, Harry's Sixth year. _

_The potion, true to its nature, shifted and changed moment to moment. Harry had no way of predicting the consistency, opacity or colour at any one time. Only Professor Snape's spidery scrawl on the label;_

_Animus Disambiguo Aerosol, O _

_Gave him any confidence that the solution he had spent his Christmas brewing and the first month of term simmering in McGonagall's store cupboard was safe to drink. Or breathe. Harry wasn't entirely confidant that he could breathe in the potion, it was currently sitting in a congealed black lump at the bottom of the vial. He had been assured that on contact with unfiltered sunshine, it would aerosolize but he couldn't help but have doubts. _

_Pulling his bottom lip between his left canines, he carefully tapped the sunburst symbol of the cork to remove the filtering spell and Vanish the stopper. As the weak spring sunshine shone down the neck of the vial, the potion began to produce white smoke that smelled strongly on pine needles. He brought it up to his mouth quickly and breathed in the smoke, resisting the urge to cough. A lung-full of the white, misty smoke and the potion was gone, leaving only the powerful smell of pine and a burn in Harry's lungs. Now the potion was gone he was free to cough as much as he felt the need to and the force of it doubled him over into the dewy grass. His whole body felt beset with fever and he only just managed to stay up on all fours, despite the shaking in his shoulders and arms. With a sense of great urgency, he ripped his robes off over his head, revealing very loose cotton pants and shirt underneath. This done, he collapsed onto his side, panting. _

_The base of his spine, his jaw and his shoulders all burnt fiercely, and his skin itched all over as the potion rippled through his bloodstream at speed. His hands and feet lengthened and the nails became claws. His jaw and nose thrust forwards in his face, his glasses falling to the grass. Most disconcertingly, his ears moved from the sides to the top of his head, rounding and becoming covered in soft black velvet, with white spots on the back. He kicked out with his legs, feeling the cotton rip and fall away as his hips changed and his knees shifted up towards his body and his ankle became the main joint in the limb. The same with his arms, he watched his palm lengthen into a feline forelimb, his fingers shorten and become clawed and clad in black fur with thick pads under each knuckle. His thumb, to his horror, retreated up his arm and shrunk into a little dew-claw. _

_His chest swelled with his achievement, he knew his form! He wished he had brought a mirror so he could have a look at his future Animagus body, but he had been nervous about this for weeks and hadn't thought of it. Looking over his shoulder down his body he saw thick, lustrous black fur, banded faintly with gray. A flicker of movement caught his attention as his tail, dark gray and black banded with a white tip, twitched. The urge to pounce on his own tail struck him and he looked away again before he did something foolish. With a start he realised that he was not, in fact, a cat; his glasses lay next to his paws and gave away his scale. His paw easily filled the space between the two arms. _

_It was then that he heard the shouting;_

"_Look out! Get away from there!" It was frantic, and nearby. Things sounded different, he realised, and he could hear every nuance of emotion in the frightened screams that followed. He hauled his heavy body upright with difficulty, trying to coordinate twice as many legs as he was used to, and turned towards the stone circle that the yelling was coming from. The next scream was not one of fear but of pain, a deep throated and angry sound. Harry stopped trying to run and just _ran_. He would later realise that he had been trying too hard and once distracted; his new body's brain knew how to work itself. In that moment the attained the fluid grace that some animagi took years to acquire. It seemed that yet again his skill, driven by fear or necessity, would outstrip expectation as it had in his third year._

_He broke into a ground eating gallop, meters flying under him with each stride, and erupted from between two standing stones. He skidded to a halt, immediately recognising the two small bodies as Cubs, the larger human as Rival, and the snake, its long poisonous-green body rearing almost a meter and a half into the air, as Enemy. The smell of blood was already thick in the air and Harry's instincts threw him into the fray. _

_Nagini's six-inch fangs had torn through Malfoy's arm like razor blades and, to Harry, the smell of her poison was heavily mixed into the smell of blood. The blonde had been brought to his knees by her first strike but he was obviously holding himself up as best he could, between her and the two first years, firing spells that bounced of the snake's impervious scales. There would be time for shock later, Harry thought, and he flung himself at the rearing snake. _

_His jaws fixed on her neck, a few inches too far from her head. Her scales resisted his fangs so he held on as hard as he could but it was not enough to break her spine, he would have to wait for her to suffocate. How he knew this was beyond him, but the surety of it meant that he did not question. His momentum bore them both to the ground and her heavy body thrashed with great force, striking him in the side and one back leg. Her head turned and she struck him deep into the rippling muscles of his shoulder. The smell of blood and venom erupted across his senses as his jaw clenched further in pain. _

_It took too long for her movement to slow and every time she so much as twitched the gash in his shoulder was made a little deeper. Eventually, the life went out of her and the magic faded from her scales. In a vicious movement Harry clamped his jaws down and wrenched his head sideways. The satisfying snap of spine and tearing of skin made up for the burning pain as Nagini's fangs were pulled out of his shoulder. _

_He released the corpse quickly as the snakes blood gushed out onto his tongue, snarling at the foul taste. He could feel his own blood dribbling down his foreleg and smell Malfoy's too, they would need help quickly. He slumped down onto his belly, then his least injured side, his breath coming in great heaving pants. _

"_You, Slytherin, fetch Snape. You, go get Pomfrey. Run, now!" Malfoy's voice sounded like it was coming between clenched teeth, it had a hissing quality to it. Harry shuddered all over at the reminder and he tried to shift away from the bleeding snake corpse. _

"_Don't be an idiot, Potter, save your strength." Harry's head came up, emerald green eyes wide in alarm and ears flat against his head. The tips of his fangs showed as his whole muzzle scrunched up into a snarl. Seeing Malfoy for the first time since the split second he had entered the circle, he realised how gray the usually-pale pureblood looked. He figured the only reason he looked any better himself was because you couldn't see how pale he was through his fur. Harry let his head drop back to the ground and let up the snarling, though he didn't stop glaring. _

"_Honestly Potter, a white flash on your forehead, green eyes and a mane that bears closest resemblance to a birds nest? Not the most subtle Animagus form I've ever seen." By this point Malfoy was laid out flat on the ground, wand in hand, pointing at his shredded forearm. His spells didn't seem to be doing any good, though he didn't seem overly distressed, either._

_Harry gave up on glaring too, since Malfoy wasn't paying attention, and lay bleeding slowly with the spring sunshine beating on his flanks, waiting for Madame Pomfrey and Snape to arrive. The aftermath seemed oddly peaceful._

End flashback. Great Hall, sunset the day after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Draco had never been more grateful to have left Voldemort's control than in the aftermath of that single encounter, despite his injuries. His own need to prevent the first-years deaths had cemented the decision in his mind. Had he not escaped, he would not have been able to complete his initiation and he, or his parents, would have died for it.

In any case, that day had been instrumental in gaining Harry's trust, as, despite the fact that he had been on Dumbledore's side for almost the entire academic year already, that was an honour he had yet to be granted. Draco was not insulted by this however; he felt it prudent, if anything and the delay had increased Draco's confidence in Harry as a thoughtful, _cunning_ player in the war.

That particular feeling wasn't harmed by the fact that the man's animagus form weighed about as much as Hagrid and was four feet tall at the shoulder. He shook his head minutely and stepped over a crumpled pile of green blankets wrapped around the legs of a diminutive first year.

Draco tapped Tristan on the shoulder to make him look up and said Isaac's name softly, the two where perched amongst a large group, leaning against each other comfortably. Tristan tilted his head back to look over his shoulder, a contortion that Draco found somewhat disturbing, while Isaac's soul-piercing blue eyes latched onto Draco's. Those eyes were disturbing in their own right, if one didn't know the story behind them.

The two first years had become thick as thieves after their close encounter, collaborating to tell the story to anyone who would listen and painting Draco as a Hero who had conjured a black 'panther' to save them. By taking advantage of the typical Hogwarts rumour mill and changing their tale to be more outrageous with each telling, the story had quickly become so polluted that the real events were completely obscured. They had eagerly agreed to keep Harry's involvement secret; it would seem that keeping a secret was its own reward. _Oh to be eleven again!_ Draco thought as he lent down to whisper Snape's message. Their alliance had remained strong through the summer break and into their second year, prompting the new first years to ignore the snake-lion rivalry altogether. Dumbledore had been incredibly proud.

Isaac nodded solemnly at this request, and Tristan grinned and asked if they were to sleep in the ward with him too, since their parents hadn't made it to the school. _Cheeky beggars. _The first night after the battle hadn't been particularly organised and they had just crashed with their dorm mates, tangled in what bedding they could find. Draco knew it hadn't been comfortable.

"Ask Professor Snape, or Pomfrey. I don't see why not. Now get lost," He watched them scarpering into the white curtained ward with small smiles before turning to the rest of the first and second year Slyth's and Gryff's that had grouped around the two boys. It was a bit late to start sending anyone to the dungeons this evening so the youngsters got pressed into service as messengers, paired up with at least one Slyth per pair. Draco sent them 'round all the Slytherins they could find, spreading the news that there would be another mission down to the dungeons in the morning and that Draco was looking for more parchment. _This is almost surreal... that's one thing I never thought we would run out of._

He got the last few back at around half nine and he got them all settled down so he could speak with them, they would need to get a couple of things organised. It gave him an idea of how much bedding they still needed to scrape together too. His group had grown while the messengers were away, as most of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first and second years had joined the circle, and it was apparent that they wouldn't have enough. He set about transfiguring more chairs into blankets, hoping that he'd get the fixing charm right and they wouldn't turn back into furniture in the middle of the night. He was soon joined by other seventh years and they made it into a competition out of boredom. Seamus Finnigans gold and red quilt with animated Welsh Green was unanimously declared the winner of the impromptu 'Albus Dumbledore Insane Fabrics Competition', which was surprisingly tame, and frequently punctuated by glances at the draped Headmasters' chair. They all thought it a fitting tribute to the ex-Gryffindor Headmaster. The quilt in question ended up slung over Aberforth Dumbledore's shoulders as he sat, with his goat, making repairs to peoples torn robes and trying to keep the edges of the robes away from said goat, though a few corners still got a little slobbered.

Somewhere along the way, a little Ravenclaw girl had asked, quite innocently;

"How old was Professor Dumbledore?" With a bright-eyed expression and a quivering bottom lip.

The seventh year boys had just exchanged slightly pain-filled glances but their fairer halves, Brown, the Patail's, occasionally Lovegood (to the confusion of many), and a few others settled down in the pile of lower years and began to tell of their memories of Headmaster Dumbledore.

Eventually, even Draco was smiling, and if he was a little bright eyed himself, none dared to mention it.

A/N: Thank you to KariSilver, cara-tanaka, madamem, darklight-phoenix and LI for your reviews!

_Animus Disambiguo Aerosol :_ pig Latin, 'Remove confusion about the soul', an aerosol is a fine mist of droplets, these are sometimes used in the treatment of asthma.

Edited version, thanks again to KariSilver.


	10. Allowed to rest

As Isaac and Tristan, the little second years, approached the teachers dais their eager and worried rush turned into a solemn walk when Professor Snape caught sight of them.

"Mr Malfoy told you why I sent for you?" he asked, looming slightly with his hands concealed in his robes. He couldn't fool the boys, though; they knew that he was sending them to look after his _boyfriend_ and it took the metaphorical billow out of his robes.

"Ye'sir, Professor Snape." Answered Tristan looking solemn and a little proud; "We're to look after the Headmaster, sir."

The professor pinched the bridge of his nose, what good was a Gryffindor who used 'sir' if he mangled the rest of the phrase? In any case, at least he knew they'd look after Harry in a quiet and orderly fashion, they looked worn out.

"Quite correct. He's not sick, just extremely tired, you understand?" He ushered the pair into the ward with a hand on their shoulders, pushing them in the right direction before letting go. "Third curtain from the left, off you go." He stood in the corridor for a moment, looking after them.

Isaac looked back at his Head of House and thought he saw, just for a moment, a bit of the worry he must be feeling and turned back, breaking into a few steps of jog before hugging Severus 'round the middle. The potions master stood stunned, completely unfamiliar with such behaviour.

"We'll look after him, sir. I promise." As quickly as he had come the twelve-year-old was off again, joining his brother-in-arms at the curtain to Harry's room and not looking back as they slipped inside. Severus was glad for the little Slytherins' tact; it would do no good for someone to see him with a lump caught in his throat. He gave a quiet little cough and gathered his wits to return to the Hall, he had to speak with Longbottom and the Weasley chit yet.

As Isaac rejoined him, Tristan held the curtain open and they stepped through together. They had been expecting the school nurse, not the ginger-topped mountain of muscle they found. At six foot four, Charlie Weasley barely fit in the room and he hadn't bothered with the flimsy conjured chair, standing next to the bed instead. Harry looked very small and pale in comparison; he was lying on his side, his immobilised arm tucked up next to his chest and the other relaxed and just escaping his furry cocoon. His mouth was a little open, his breath coming easily and stirring the fur below his chin, and his face relaxed. Charlie looked up at them after a moment, perhaps in response to Tristan's surprised intake of breath.

"Evening boys, you the relief?" His voice, though quiet, fit his broad chest with its deep baritone.

Tristan had to swallow before he could speak; "Y'sir, this is Isaac Williams and I'm Tristan Finster." The two boys stood rather still, looking up at Charlie with a little awe.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Charlie Weasley, Harry's adopted brother. Well, one of them." He held out a beefy, scarred hand which Tristan, then Isaac shook. Their hands disappeared into his and they couldn't help but feel intimidated, but, his skin was warm and his grip gentle and respectful.

"You're the _Dragon Tamer_!" Blurted Tristan, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Isaac and they exchanged a brief conversation using only glares and pleading looks that reminded Charlie of a much younger Fred and George. Isaac seemed to forgive Tristan after a few seconds,

"That's right, Harry been telling stories again?" Charlie glanced at the curled up shape on the bed fondly. This seemed to mark him as Ally to the two boys and they broke into grins. Isaac spoke for the first time to the (as he perceived it) stranger;

"A little, will you tell us about Norberta sometime? Please?" His quiet, child's tenor was full of smile and welsh vowels, Charlie couldn't help but grin back.

"Another time, lads. For now, the Auror's want a bit of help gettin' the fires out before the lights gone completely, so I have to run." He bent down so his face was level with the boys' "the Professor sent you to look after Harry, so here's what you do. See that chair? Well it's too small for me, but I'm not too bad at Transfiguration, so..." He pointed his wand at the chair, spinning it in an inwards spiral. As he finished the movement the chair changed into a thick blanket a bit like Harry's fur cloak in its hairy-ness, the green of the seat cushion spread to cover the entire duvet in something a bit like velvet. "And I'm not shabby at charms either," A swift swish followed by a short flick enlarged Harry's bed on one side until it almost filled the space and Harry lay with his back closer to the curtain and a large expanse of mattress in front of him. Charlie had to squeeze out with care, feeling a little foolish.

"Now," He picked up the green blanket and shook it out, "I know it early, but it's been a long day," he gently pushed the slightly awestruck lads towards the big bed, "And I reckon you didn't sleep all that great last night either."

"Shouldn't one of us stay awake?" Isaac said a little timidly,

"Like night watchmen?" asked Tristan, looking longingly at the snugly looking blanket but agreeing with Isaac's train of thought all the same.

"You'll wake up if he has a nightmare, believe me. In any case, the Professor will be around. Up on the bed, both of you. Shoes off." The pair scrambled up, having another looks-and-glances conversation. Their 'language' was impenetrable to Charlie but their decision was clear, Isaac crawled to Harry, lying near the shelter of his curled arms and facing him,

"He'll sleep all night, won't he? He looks very tired." Isaac said in his soft, melodious Welsh accent, nodding to himself and touching his fingertips to Harry's palm. Tristan sat cross-legged and sorted out the pillows, poking one at the back of Isaac's head until he raised it and pulled the corner of the pillow under his ear.

"I hope so, it's going to be a tough few weeks." Charlie handed the blanket to Tristan, who flicked it over Isaac and himself. "Goodnight, boys. Severus'll be by later so don't stay up too late." They both nodded at the reminder and Tristan gave a small smile for them both, since Isaac's back was to Charlie, as the bulky Dragon Tamer left and the curtain closed.

"We'll look after him Zac, they'll see." Tristan slid down so he was lying back to back with his best friend, secure in the knowledge that Isaac would wake him up if Harry needed them. Two of three dark haired little shapes were soon deeply and securely asleep, while the third watched Harry's face, his fingers lightly touching Harry's palm.

Severus didn't finish up with Madame Bones until nearly eleven and then spent the hour helping Minerva deal with a hundred little things that needed to go _right _for a place like Hogwarts to function. He was very glad for Ms. Granger's assistance at this point, even if she did use incomprehensible terms like 'Em-Are-Ee' and worried about the fact that they had no architects drawing of Hogwarts. Never mind that the castle _changed _on a regular basis.

Eventually, when it was apparent that both women and all the house elves where dead on their feet he declared that he was going to find Harry. The two women shared a significant glance and went to find somewhere to bed down near the ginger-topped pile of Weasley's at the back of the Hall. They were joined by Charlie as they passed the teachers' entrance and Severus lost sight of them.

Once he stepped through the curtain into the impromptu serious injuries ward he let himself relax, blowing out a near-silent sigh and combing his hair back with his fingers. A rustle at the far end of the corridor prompted him to straighten and begin the short walk to where he had placed Harry. The mediwizard leaving the furthest cubicle looked familiar in a vague way, an old student? He was certainly young enough, perhaps eight years Harry's senior.

"Professor," The voice and manner of address confirmed it, Hufflepuff, E at NEWT level potions, Severus had written the boy's reference for Healer training.

"McEwen." He nodded courteously as he pushed open the curtain to Harry's cubicle. The mediwizard followed him quietly and immediately began casting non-verbal diagnostics on Harry and the two boys. Severus recognised most of them as routine as the spells noted the results of the roll of parchment attached to the end of Harry's bed. The boys, apparently, were in perfect health, and Harry was looking a little better for some more rest.

Without another word, McEwen left again to check of Fred next door. Once the curtain slid closed, Severus conjured an armchair and slumped into its brocade cushions with relief, eyes fixed on Harry's peaceful expression.

"You can go to sleep now, you foolish little insomniac," He murmured, drawing his wand to cast a Notice-Me-Nightmares ward.

"I'll try, Sir." Called Isaac's little voice from the middle of the pile of blankets and fur cloak. Some two hours earlier Harry had half-woken and gathered the little Slytherin into a one armed hug so that his forehead was comfortably resting on Harry's collarbone. Tristan lay on his other side, in stereotypical Gryffindor fashion, splayed out on his back with half the covers tangled around one leg. Severus thought it looked almost comical next to the two tidy sleepers.

He leaned over and tugged at the fabric until Tristan shuffled, grunting quietly, and he could pull the covers back over him.

"Sleep, Williams." He murmured, drawing his robes around his lean body and settling back into his chair.

"Good night, Sir." Isaac's voice sounded sleepy, and the two soon fell as deeply asleep as Harry and Tristan.


	11. Grief

Harry felt warm and so very comfortable that when he woke on the second day after the Battle he made no attempt to move. He could feel sunshine on his right cheek and the gentle rise and fall of a child's breath under his right arm. His left remained blissfully numb, though the edge of the immobilising spell was digging into his chest a little. He really couldn't care, however. The warm fragrance of Bergamot and the not as pleasant, but just as familiar, smell of dried astringent herbs assured him that the warm cocoon around his shoulders was Snape in origin. There was no indication as to what had awoken him, no noise of someone moving close by, but he could hear the light babble of students in the rest of the Hall.

He was shamed then, by the Latin he had uttered on the peak of that mountain. Here, he was surrounded by warmth and light and the quiet sound of the crowd and Isaac's breathing... he felt then that he should never have wished for silence. This 'noise' he would not run away from, nor would he want to.

He shifted slightly, pushing his head out of the blankets a little more to take advantage of the sun streaming through the ceiling of the Great Hall. The effort tired him out a little less than it had before, when he had attacked Severus with his cold feet but it still set off fatigue induced aches throughout his body. A number of them, he knew, could be attributed to sitting up to greet the Minister but he decided that the effort had paid off; he could practically hear Skeeter buzzing frantically in Hermione's jar. A small, satisfied smile spread up one side of his mouth at _that_ thought.

"Oh stop smirking, you self important little oaf." Severus' gravely drawl made Harry break out into almost a proper smile, "It is time for potions and breakfast."

His face fell only a little at the mention of potions and he managed to pry one eye open, leaving the other closed against the light. "I love you, Severus." He murmured, feeling incredibly grateful that his lover was still the same old acerbic bastard as ever, and casting a one-eyed glance at the armchair that the voice had come from before letting his eye close again.

"Eewww..." Tristan's voice communicated the entire wrinkled-nosed squirm that only pre-teens confronted by the love lives of their elders could express.

"Oops." Harry couldn't help but feel completely unapologetic, despite the very real risk that Severus would have to kill the two boys, in the event that Harry had made him blush. He even laughed a little.

"A little _maturity_, if you would, Finster." Severus didn't sound enraged, thought Harry, who risked having another look around the curtained room. Tristan was set up by the headboard with his legs crossed under a writing board and a chewed-up quill in one hand. He was already rather unfortunately inky, apparently in two years of schooling, Hogwarts had been unable to rid him of his poor quill habits. Isaac remained curled up under Harry's right arm, his hair just touching Harry's chin, fast asleep still. Severus appeared to be doing paperwork on a lap desk like Tristan's,

"Thank you, Severus... I... there is much work to be done, but I..." Harry opened his other eye and looked in Severus' direction, his chest heavy with gratitude and with a little guilt that his 'paperwork' was probably _Harry_'s paperwork, as the new Headmaster. He choked a little, as the image of Dumbledore picking up a bowl of sherbet lemons from the top of similar pile of papers and offering it to him popped into him mind. A little tug on his shirt made him look down at Isaac, surprised to see two large and slightly moist eyes looking up at him.

"I miss him too." The little second year glanced up at his class-mate, who was bent over his letter again, though wasn't writing and who's eyes too looked a little bright.

"You two are far too perceptive for your own good." Severus sighed in his familiar irritated manner, setting aside the requisitions forms they had salvaged from the Deputy Head's office. Beside his chair was the familiar mahogany box of his personal medical supplies, which he opened and rummaged in, partly to hide his face and partly because Harry would be in pain soon if he wasn't already.

"The castle misses him..." Harry said quietly, effectively to himself, though they all heard it.

"So do all of us, the seventh years had a tribut last night, after we'd gone to bed." Tristan piped up, smiling now, though it looked a little fragile.

"A tribute?" Harry repeated softly, unconsciously correcting the 12-year-old's pronunciation.

"A competition to see who could conjure the best blanket. Seamus won. It was animated and everything." The boy's smile got a little firmer, even though Harry could see the sadness still on his, slightly blurry, face.

"Good for him, Albus would have been proud." Harry blinked and squinted for a moment, first closing one eye then the other before sighing and giving up. He struggled for a moment, trying to sit up, until Isaac helped him out of the tangle they had made of the covers and his robes. Once he was sitting/lying propped up on the pillows he relaxed back into them with a tired sigh, looking a little paler than he had before. Severus noticed and brought the potions he had singled out over for Harry to take. First a pain-reliever, which was met with a gentle grimace and a look of relief, then Joints Ease followed thirdly by a strengthener. The smell of pear drops briefly filled the little tent-like room, reminding Severus and Harry that food was in order.

"Go on, Isaac, up you get." Harry mumbled, briefly squeezing the waif-like boy's hand. "Thank you for looking after me." He said with genuine feeling; Isaac wriggled out of the enlarged bed, looking knowing and pleased but said nothing. Tristan followed, taking his lap desk with him and hastily scribbling a few words with it held awkwardly on his left arm.

"'time is it, Severus?" he asked quietly, blinking up at his slightly fuzzy lover.

"Past time for breakfast." Severus replied with a prescriptive edge, "Has your charm begun to fade?"

"Mm, I think so. Pancakes?" He said hopefully as Severus sat on the edge of the bed, which suddenly seemed much closer than it had before. Harry supposed he should have noticed the enlargement charm being removed but honestly, he was tired and hungry and it had been familiar magic anyway, someone he knew.

"Look up," Severus' left hand slid around Harry's jaw, tilting his head back as he stared up into the sky, through the Great Hall's ceiling. "I believe that porridge is the only option, I am sure you will manage."

The tip of a wand swayed at the very bottom limit of his vision and Severus' voice begun chanting quietly in Latin. The snatches of sun, blue sky and illusory leaves began to come clear and Harry blinked the charm into place. Severus' hand lingered on his jaw, his thumb stroking the patch of soft skin in front of his ear, a little longer than strictly necessary and Harry tilted his face into the warmth.

"I love you too, you impertinent little brat." was muttered directly into his ear, the rush of warm air spreading a smile over Harry's face.

"That's _Headmaster_ Brat, to you..." He quipped, blinking his now clear vision and examining the two second years in more detail; they looked rumpled, but well rested. Isaac was more solemn than usual and Harry hoped that he was still unable to see Thestrals, as unlikely as that would be. He vividly remembered them hauling the injured that managed to make it back to the castle's Entrance Hall towards the Great Hall and the mediwizards. How many had not made it that far?

His chest tightened and the light-hearted atmosphere suffocated under the pressure. He closed his eyes against the losses and focused on the warmth of Severus' hand, the gentle lull of voices in the Hall...

"Breathe, Harry, it's over now, done." Severus commanded, forcefully. "Now you eat, sleep and take your potions. Understand?"

Harry obeyed, relaxing his aching body into the pillows and drawing a shaky breath. He realised he could hear Hermione's voice in the distance, and a Weasley nearby and tried to just be grateful for every single voice he could hear. The warm circles that Severus' thumb was making on his cheekbone helped immensely, illogically, but it was still a nigh-on impossible task; Remus and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin's faces, with their silly name and their curse burnt clothes, Albus' ashes scattering on the wind... part of him was amazed that he had lasted this long, while the rest of him wanted to curl up and go back to sleep.

Severus' arms slid around him, drawing him up against his chest just as the fat tears started to escape. He was done being the leader, being strong, just for five minutes; he wanted to be the man who had just lost a friend, a mentor and the mother of his Godson. The boy who had lost his Godfather.

Severus didn't begrudge him his tears; a warm, long fingered hand tangled in his hair and pulled his head into the crook of a pale neck. Harry could feel the rumble of Severus' voice but he was beyond taking in the words. He just... needed some comfort.


	12. Hope

_AN: Dear, dear readers, this is the final chapter of Silence, for now. I will be posting the story of how Harry and Severus got to this point soon, under the label 'The Price of Sanity'. It is already a long tale, and I have much left to write, so settle in for the long hall, and look for it after Christmas. Once i start posting, it will be on a tight schedule, posting every Monday and Friday. _

_Enjoy,_

_Rose_

* * *

In grief, there is Hope.

Severus' hand ran smoothly through Harry's hair, spell-cleaned of the dust and blood of battle. The smoothness of the rhythmic movement tamped down Harry's wildness and the sobs until he was blinking slowly, eyes unfocused.

"Is Fred...? He's next door. I heard Ron's voice..." Harry said in an airy, unfocused voice. The memory of the terrible siege engines ravaging his school was blissfully, mercifully silent. Severus' voice rumbled against Harry's cheek as he answered in a low tone.

"He will survive. Soon, he will wake and we will have to watch the food again. The other one sleeps." Harry's heavy sigh stirred Severus' long hair, where it hung in front of his face,

"That's... good." Was all Harry could think to say; he wasn't in a fit state to see the Weasley's yet, that intensity would have to wait, but they were _alive_ and that was important.

"Where's Teddy?" He murmured into Severus' chest, unable to raise his voice above a whisper, "Was he here? Who... who's going to-"

A hand wound into his hair and held his forehead more firmly against Severus' neck, "He was here, but remained unhurt. He is with his Grandmother."

Harry nodded silently against Severus' robes and let his jumbled thoughts tumble around his head; there was so much to do, so many to grieve and so many people who still needed him... He hadn't deluded himself, during the War; he'd known that he, like Dumbledore, would never be free of the world he had led to freedom, of the people he had saved. He _had_ known what he was getting into when he had become Headmaster, and when he had become Teddy's Godfather, but now, as tired as he was, it was just... just too much.

His thought went down another route, as he shied away, mind racing and chaotic; he wanted to see his godson. He may be an orphan now, but he wasn't alone and he hoped the child would never feel that particular sensation, that crushing loneliness that Harry had escaped, barely whole.

But, he was Remus Lupin's son. Tonks' son... he wasn't sure he could handle that; he felt like he might shatter at any moment, if Severus let him go. He took a deep, shaking breath and turned his head slightly to press a kiss to Severus' neck, partly in thanks and partly of a desperate need to know that he was still _there_.

"I want to see him..." He asked, despite his misgivings; even if he cried, if it was too much, it wouldn't matter because the war was over and Severus was right there. But... he couldn't stop _seeing_, people who had become family, people he had _taught_, blood and green light and the noise of the battle field. He let his head fall into the grip of Severus' hand, eyes staring at the Enchanted Ceiling blankly.

"Cho died. Did you know? And the Ravenclaw Luna was tutoring. The Auror who was at my Apparition exam, one of the wolves had... Severus..." His throat choked him, air burned his lungs and his eyes could no longer focus,

_Do not pity the dead, Harry. _

He shook violently, his head tossing before Severus caught it and tucked it back against his robes,

"So _many...!_" He choked out, screwing his eyes shut and tightening his grip on Severus' waistcoat. "_Albus..."_ his voice turned thin and breathy as he struggled against the sobs building in his throat and failed. They tore through his chest, making him shake again, his fist wrapped tightly in Severus' robes. The exertion made it hard to breathe and stars popped in front of his tightly shut eyes.

He didn't see the flash of silver as Severus' Patronus trotted off, he simply clung tightly to Severus, to the comfort and warmth of him. As the minutes passed and the exhaustion stilled him and begun pushing him back into sleep, his mind begun to go blank. Too tired and too sad to think anymore, he lay still in his lovers arms while the tears simply rolled down his face with every blink.

When Severus offered up a glass of water, he drank slowly. The cool liquid felt glorious and he let his eyes stay closed, this time.

"Thanks, Sev... Love you." He mumbled with a thick tongue, not protesting when he was laid back against cool pillows since Severus' hands never left him for more than a moment.

"Foolish, sentimental Gryffindor." Was his reply, but Harry felt the brush of warm lips against his temple and the unspoken spoke itself, loud and clear. He hovered on the edges of sleep, drifting thoughtlessly and listening to the voices in the Hall; it would have been easy to throw up a silencing ward, but Severus had not, and he doubted anyone had. The gentle sounds of life were too beautiful to give up... and if he wasn't very much mistaken, Tristan and Isaac were on their way back. Such tiny, delicate lives...

Harry fell asleep, deeply, to the sounds of two young wizards carrying a tray of breakfast and his lover conjuring a table for them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Andromeda Tonks arrived in response to his Patronus, she looked more that tired. Her face was proud, however, and fierce and Severus felt something akin to respect. This woman, holding her Grandson, was _strong_ in the one way that Harry, raised by the Dursley's was not. The loss of her daughter and husband were clear shadows in her eyes but that gaze fixed on Harry the moment Tristan pulled back the curtain to let her in.

Severus stood to welcome her, placing a hand on her shoulder and looked down at little Teddy Lupin, barely six months old and fast asleep.

"He needs a feed when he wakes up, same as his Godfather," She said with a hint of a smile making it past the weight of sadness.

"I will see to it, you should have breakfast. May I?" He asked, glancing again at the little face visible from amongst the blankets and absurd little bobble hat that Dobby had knitted. The grandmother nodded and passed the precious bundle over with care. Severus forced himself to not mind that Tristan was staring and Isaac had that _knowing _look again and propped the bundle in the crook of his arm and robes.

"Now, you boys! Have you been looking after my Harry?" Andromeda was saying quietly as she joined the pair for porridge.

Severus was at first surprised that it was Isaac who answered, rather than the talkative Tristan, but the words he spoke were all the more valuable for it.

"We kept the nightmares away, Ms Tonks; he was tired, so very tired..." His musical, welsh voice quavered over the words.

"Aye, I'll say he still is. We'll look after him, wont we now, boys?"

Severus turned his back to them with a feeling of cheer lifting in his chest. When his eyes fell on Harry again, he silently repeated the sentiment. After a moment of drinking in the sight of that pale, delicate face, he shifted the baby in his arms and laid him down in the crook between Harry's right arm and his body. He couldn't help but smile gently when Harry's body shifted slightly to curl around the warm bundle, cocooning Teddy safely away from the world, even while both of them slept on solidly.

By the time Severus had finished his tea, disdaining the porridge, Teddy was beginning to grizzle quietly. Isaac picked up the child's bag and, to Severus' amusement, handed it to him, after only a glance at Andromeda. The boy had obviously come to the same conclusion as Severus; the woman was tired, and being strong for her grandson wasn't as easy as she would have everyone believe.

Severus took the bag with only a little trepidation and thanked Isaac quietly. Tristan was keeping Andromeda occupied for the moment, telling her about the goings on in their little group of Gryffindor and Slytherin first and second years. Harry stirred at the grizzling in his ear and turned further towards Teddy, his eyes fluttering open. The swiftly filled with tears, big, heavy, fat droplets that rolled down his skin peacefully. Instead of being dashed apart by screwed up eyes and sobbing, they simply fell freely onto the pillow and Teddy's silly, colour-changing bobble hat.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and offered Teddy the warm bottle. The baby latched on obligingly and Severus felt strangely rewarded by the strong sucking that shifted the bottle slightly in his hand. His free hand went to Harry's hair and he knew he had made the right decision; there was peace in those green eyes, holding Harry together, and Severus empathised; it was difficult to not be affected by the simple enjoyment little Teddy was getting from his filling stomach.

The shadows of war flickered in Harry's mind, Severus knew, but this... this was the future.


End file.
